


Castiel In A Field

by FortLauderTales



Series: These Things Are Not Meant To Be Left Behind [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Best Friends, Gen, Sad Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 07:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12601656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortLauderTales/pseuds/FortLauderTales
Summary: Uh...it's about Castiel. And he's hanging out. In a field.





	Castiel In A Field

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, belatedly remembering that that hand had just been wrist-deep in a hole in the ground, fingers idly loosening soil for planting what would, he was certain, become a lush and varied garden. He told himself he was gardening, but gardeners don’t usually spend more time looking out into an empty field than they do actively working to plant things. Maybe now he had the problem backwards: where he had always been mired in minutiae at the expense of the bigger picture, now he couldn’t stop gaping at the forest. Or backyard garden, as it were.

And so here he sat, whiling the afternoon away with his jean-clad butt on the one patch of dead earth, caressing a bunch of dirt, though his eyes were elsewhere. He took a deep breath and looked out at the patchy, yellowed grass, a warm, dry wind moving through his hair and bringing more bits of dirt to the old, borrowed T-shirt he wore. Bits of its original blue still peeked through the smears of dirt from Castiel absentmindedly wiping his hands on it on the front and sides and, surprisingly enough, even the back, which had become an interesting mix of green and black after he had lain on his back after lunch and fallen asleep on top of the dirt and grass he had dug up. Both Sam and Dean had offered to help, which said more about his recent state than his protracted moping and sighing ever could. If a Winchester would rather use a shovel to aerate a field than to bury or un-bury a body, and offered to do it willingly, that’s a solid sign of their concern.

As Castiel reached for a packet of seeds, his fingernails caught his attention. The dark soil embedded beneath them, unnoticed before now, suddenly became an unbearable irritation. He breathed deeply, trying and failing to keep what he knew was an unreasonable anger at bay. He tried to remember that all he needed to do was walk back inside, wash his hands, use the scrubbing brush that Dean had bought him, but even the thought of that process was a further affront. This all too human body, this lump clay such that he now was, seemed forever to seek ways to become tarnished and tainted. And no matter how he tried or what efforts he took, he couldn’t seem to keep it clean.

Castiel didn’t realize how hard he’d clenched his hands or that tears were cutting paths through the dirt on his cheeks until he felt one of Dean’s hands on his face and the other holding one of his fists. His eyes met and held Dean’s, not knowing when he had started matching his friend’s breathing, slow and steady, slow and steady, until his body relaxed and he felt, if not calm, at least a bit more serene. Dean chanced a small smile, which Castiel returned, and not entirely out of obligation. This had not been the first time Dean silently guided Castiel off a ledge, and likely it would not be the last. But it was the first time that Castiel felt like the effort was worth it.


End file.
